


Gratitude

by FlirtyFroggy



Series: Gratitude [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunken Shenanigans, Euro 2012, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlirtyFroggy/pseuds/FlirtyFroggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I still can’t believe you did that,” Juan shouted over the music, collapsing into the chair beside Fernando and kissing him on the cheek.  “Why did you do that?”</i>
</p><p>  <i>Fernando shrugged. “I saw it was you,” he said, taking a swig from the now-flat champagne in front of him to avoid elaborating further. </i></p><p>Juan finds a way to thank Fernando for his generosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/10208.html?thread=5852896#t5852896) prompt at the kink meme. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not meant to imply anything about any actual people or their lives. It's just for fun.

It happened so fast there was barely time for conscious thought, but as soon as Fernando saw Juan running in on his right it was like there was only one option. No other course of action was possible. One quick flick of Fernando’s foot and Juan had the ball. A second later it was in the back of the net and Juan was wheeling away from the goal.

“It’s yours, it’s yours,” Juan cried, leaping into Fernando’s arms. Joy was etched into every line of his face and Fernando knew he would sacrifice a thousand goals if it made Juan smile like that.

~~

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Juan shouted over the music, collapsing into the chair beside Fernando and kissing him on the cheek. “Why did you do that?”

Fernando shrugged. “I saw it was you,” he said, taking a swig from the now-flat champagne in front of him to avoid elaborating further. He pulled a face as he swallowed and Juan laughed.

“Put that down, you idiot,” he said, removing Fernando’s fingers from the glass and dumping it unceremoniously on the table. He peered around the room and his face lit up when he spotted an unopened bottle two tables away. “Hold on.” He veered around chairs and tables with impressive agility for a man more drunk than sober and snatched up his prey a second before Iker, who had been aiming for the same target. Fernando couldn’t hear what Juan said, but his cheeky grin spoke volumes and, as it always did, got him what he wanted. Iker waved him and his bottle away with a smile and a roll of the eyes. Juan returned to their table triumphant.

The glint in his eye was soon dimmed as he struggled with the cork. “Give it to me, Jesus Christ,” Fernando said, taking the bottle from him. He had no more luck than Juan, however, and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as Juan dissolved into helpless laughter. “Fuck.”

“We really should be better at this by now,” Juan said. “I mean, we’ve had enough practice.”

“For fuck’s sake, you two,” came a voice from behind them, and the bottle was plucked from Fernando’s hands.

“Oi!”

“Pepe, give it back!” 

Pepe shook his head at them, twisting the cork and freeing it easily. He handed the bottle back to Fernando with a look of disgust. “Honestly, I don’t know how you two even manage to tie your shoelaces.” And he stalked off to where Sergio appeared to be trying to limbo under a chair balanced across the backs of two other chairs.

They searched through the glasses littering the table until they found two that were more or less clean and filled them up, the champagne bubbling up and over the sides.

“To us,” Fernando said, raising his glass to Juan.

“To you,” Juan corrected.

“Juan…”

“Fer, just. Please.”

“Alright, alright. To me.” Juan beamed at him and Fernando couldn’t help but beam back.

“To you,” Juan said, and raised his glass in turn. He kept his gaze on Fernando as he drank and Fernando tried not to squirm. “Seriously, though. Why? You were right there, you had it.”

“I wanted you to have it. You deserved that goal, Juan. You’ve worked so hard.”

“So have you. You deserved it too, and I know how badly you wanted it.”

Fernando shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. No, not a big deal at all. “I wanted you to have it more,” he said, unable to deny this terrifying truth. He drained his glass and refilled it, avoiding Juan’s eye. “You’re my friend. I want good things for you.” And, god, it was true. Whatever else he felt, that always had been and always would be true.

Juan placed his hand over Fernando’s where he had been tapping it on the table without realising it. He didn’t say anything, just waited for Fernando to look at him, which of course he did. “Thank you,” he said. Simply, sincerely, with a warm smile that might as well have been a knife in Fernando’s heart.

“You’re welcome,” Fernando said, the words tangling in his throat. Juan just smiled wider and took another drink.

“I need to do something for you. Find some way to repay you.” Juan hadn’t removed his hand from Fernando’s and he had started absently tracing patterns over his knuckles. Fernando tried really, really hard to ignore the way his skin tingled.

“You don’t need to repay me. It’s not a favour, not something you owe me.” Fernando would have been offended had it been possible for Juan to actually do something offensive.

“I know, I know,” Juan soothed. Was it Fernando’s imagination or was Juan’s touch a little more deliberate now, his fingers brushing against Fernando’s with a little more intent? “Maybe repay wasn’t the right word. I want to, I don’t know, show my appreciation. I want to… I want…” Juan trailed off, watching Fernando with serious eyes. His fingers trailed across the back of Fernando’s hand, skimmed the very edge of his palm and ran lightly back up to scrape gentle nails across his wrist.

“Juan, I,” Fernando began, with absolutely no idea what he was going to say next. A sudden loud crash and a yell made them both jump and they turned round to see Iker helping Pepe out from underneath a pile of chairs that had once been a limbo pole. At least, he was attempting to help but they were both laughing so hard Pepe just kept falling back down, pulling Iker with him. Xavi, Victor and Andres sat nearby, offering lots of no doubt helpful advice while not lifting a finger. Xabi, Sergio, Silva and Villa were doubled up with laughter, offering no help at all. Fernando laughed, and was about to suggest they go over to assist in mocking Pepe when he felt Juan grab his hand.

“Come on,” Juan said, pulling him up. Fernando laughed again, relieved beyond measure that Juan seemed as eager as he was to pretend the strange, charged moment between them hadn’t happened. But instead of heading towards the pile of chairs and footballers, Juan pulled him the other way, out of the hotel bar the team had commandeered and into the maze of corridors and conference rooms outside. 

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t know,” Juan said, looking around with a frown. “Somewhere I can show you my appreciation.”

“What?” Fernando’s heart thudded in his chest. Surely Juan didn’t mean –

“This way,” Juan said, tugging him down a hallway that looked exactly the same as every other hallway in the hotel, and in every other hotel in the world. “Here.” Fernando found himself pushed against the wall of an alcove underneath a stairwell. It was deserted and partially hidden, but far from private. Any concerns Fernando had about that disappeared, however, when he looked at Juan’s face. That beautiful, infuriating face that Fernando had spent so much time, too much time, looking at; covertly, openly, any way he could. He had never seen it look like this; intent and hungry, wanting. He wondered if he looked the same and knew that he must, that all the defences he had built so carefully to keep Juan from seeing precisely this had been ripped away. It was a dizzying, terrifying, exhilarating thought.

“Juan,” he breathed, reaching out to brush his thumb across Juan’s cheekbone. Juan’s smile, never far away, crept back in around the corners of his mouth. He turned his head to nip playfully at the pad of Fernando’s thumb with his teeth, then caused Fernando to choke by dropping to his knees. He reached for Fernando’s belt. “Juan,” Fernando croaked. “You don’t have to. You really don’t have to.”

Juan frowned at him, then closed his eyes and leaned forward until his forehead rested against Fernando’s belt buckle. Fernando could feel the heat of his breath through the fabric of his jeans. “I know I don’t have to, Fer. I want to. I want to.” He looked up at Fernando, all eyes, and placed a gentle kiss to the fly of his jeans. Fernando could do nothing but nod.

Juan gave him that smile, the one Fernando had always thought of as mischievous but in this context could only be called wicked, and set to work on his belt. Fernando wondered if he would ever be able to see that smile again without remembering this, and thought about how incredibly, horribly inconvenient that was going to be. 

The first touch of Juan’s tongue was like nothing Fernando had ever experienced. It was far from his first blowjob, or even his first from a man, but none of the others had been, well, Juan. His friend and confidant, his most indefatigable cheerleader, had his hand wrapped around Fernando cock as he licked around the head, coaxing him to full hardness. He had wanted this for so long, wanted it without really letting himself think too clearly about what it was precisely that he wanted. His fantasies had always been deliberately vague, he had never allowed himself to dwell too long on the particulars for fear they would become too much to bear. If he were honest, if his thoughts ever had lingered on ‘what ifs’ they probably wouldn’t have lingered on an anonymous corridor in an anonymous hotel in Poland. And yet, here they were, and Fernando was already half out of his mind. 

He let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the feeling of Juan running his tongue along the length of his shaft. He really knew what he was doing; twisting his wrist just right, licking and sucking enthusiastically, teasing just enough to drive Fernando crazy but not enough to frustrate. Fernando wondered where he had learned to give head like this, who he had done this with before. Jealousy welled up in him, irrational and shockingly violent. Then Juan took him fully in his mouth, sliding down until Fernando’s cock hit the back of his throat, and Fernando stopped thinking about other men, stopped thinking at all.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look down at Juan, at his stretched out lips and hollowed cheeks. His eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering, as if there were nothing more pleasurable than having Fernando’s cock in his mouth. Fernando’s hips jerked and Juan hummed happily as he hit the back of his throat again. “Fuck,” Fernando whispered, reaching out to run his fingers down Juan’s cheek. “Juan, I– fuck.” Juan’s eyes opened, full of smiles and hunger, and Fernando moved his hand to Juan’s mouth where it wrapped around him, just brushing against his own cock. They both moaned, and Fernando was sure he felt it right down in his bones. 

Juan’s hands moved to Fernando’s hips, tugging his jeans and boxers down a little further, just enough to enable him to reach between his legs and lightly stroke his balls. A loud moan ripped out of Fernando’s throat and Juan increased the pressure, scraping gently with his nails. 

Fernando’s hips were moving of their own accord now and Juan made no attempt to stop them, simply increased the suction as he let Fernando fuck into his mouth. Fernando was torn between the desire to watch every single second of this, and the urge to give in, close his eyes and just _feel_. He kept his eyes locked on Juan’s, feeling the tension building irresistibly inside him. He stuffed his left hand into his mouth in an attempt to stifle his increasingly loud gasps and moans, dimly aware that they were still out in public. His right hand skimmed endlessly over Juan’s face and through his hair, finding its way to his slick, stretched lips over and over again.

Fernando could feel himself approaching the edge, his sac tightening in Juan’s hand, his cock twitching in Juan’s mouth. With a knowing twinkle in his eye, Juan reached his hand further back to probe ever so gently at Fernando’s entrance. Fernando bit down on his hand to muffle his cries as he came, pumping into Juan’s mouth, and he tried not to look away, wanted to watch every moment of this, of Juan swallowing him down; but his body arched, his eyes closed, and his head fell back against the wall with a thump. 

When he blinked his eyes open again, Juan had already zipped up his jeans and was fastening his belt. He smiled up at Fernando, stood up, and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth before taking his hand and pulling him away from the wall.

“Wait,” Fernando said, trying to sort out his muddled brain as Juan led him back down the corridor. “What about – I mean – You – I could…” Juan stopped and turned to face him. 

“I told you,” he said. His voice was strained. “I wanted to show my appreciation. This was for you.”

“But –” Juan silenced him with another quick kiss.

“We need to get back. We’ll be missed if we’re gone too long.” And he turned and continued back towards the bar. 

Somewhere below the haze, Fernando felt sick. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want Juan’s gratitude, he didn’t want some one-off blow job out of obligation or, god help him, out of pity. But he was still too dazed, his mind too blown, and he couldn’t sort his thoughts out, let alone his words. And so he let Juan lead him back into the bar, rubbing at the very clear bite mark on his hand and wondering how the hell he was going to explain it.

The scene that greeted them in the bar was even more chaotic than the one they had left. Fernando set about burying his fears and doubts in prodding at Pepe’s limbo-induced bruises and accepting every drink that was offered; he laughingly let himself be pulled into Cesc’s conga line, drank even more champagne, and definitely didn’t notice Juan’s bright eyes watching him from across the room.

**Author's Note:**

> I may write a sequel to this. I feel bad that Juan didn't get any, and Fernando's far too unhappy for someone who just got the best blowjob of his life.


End file.
